


an idol on a hilltop of suffering and pain

by orphan_account



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood, Body Horror, Character Death, Crying, Death, Gen, Gore, Horror, Repetition, Violence, ask to tag, bc i think its sexy, geraskier can be platonic or romantic idc, graphic gore, lots of screaming, no happy ending, puking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23318359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: (no happy ending for them. a permanent torture for the suffering.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	an idol on a hilltop of suffering and pain

**Author's Note:**

> pay attention to the tags!!! let me know if i should add to them too
> 
> “an idol on a hilltop of suffering and pain” cold hearted town pt. 2 by the taxpayers

there is a scream. deep and blood curling. its waves claws everywhere in its path and draws deep red. there is a scream. bloody and broken. it is shards of glass and rainy days. there is a scream, and it is unholy that even the angels cannot cure it. 

the forest, plants shudder with another roar from the source, demands jaskier. it’s unknown voice mixes with screeches and the human runs. his witcher is there. 

vocal pain does not stop or silences, it grows and grows until it’s digging into jaskier’s flesh. he can feel the fangs of the of the witcher biting harshly into his lungs and begging (begging, begging - flooding tears and smell of rot) for it to stop. his shoes crush the soil and trees watch witch with sick fascination at the unholy animal at their roots. 

there is a scream, and it is not victorious. it is poisonous pain. 

dark noise seeps into his skeleton and marks it up. scratches and scratched until there is only a blue eye left, stuck to view a forever torture and do nothing.

screaming. 

it tears his organs apart at the sound, but he runs (bolts to the sound) and is panting crimson. jaskier makes it through the trees and wanting green, he kills it with his panic heart, and feels his body shake with repulsiveness when he reaches the overpowering screams. 

there, in the middle of a ring of angry bark - geralt. geralt. 

fuck. fuckfuckfuckfuck

bile hugs the Earth and Jaskier - oh gods, he feels sympathy, and he feels the vibrations and skin moving against his flesh that blood hardness and breaks and repeats over and over like those fucking screams. 

jaskier throws up his stomach and and and and and -

there, geralt-

layers of flesh surrounds the writhing man. it slides, peels off like potato skin, off of him, showing slick blood, veins, and muscle, and then it falls to the deep maroon floor as new pale skin grows on him. the process continues to repeat as something moves under the thin second skin. it moves the opposite way of geralt’s squirms. it moves like it’s the owner of the body and snaps the witcher apart (apart, apart - sticks with a lashing cut and fragile rocks crumbling). 

blue eyes watch the cycle repeat and repeat, and then he doesn’t. and then he screams with the metallic throat. 

“G E R A L T !” 

silence.

. 

.

.

the witcher no longer screams, and the writhing and overall disgusting gore ends. blood drowns the body, and jaskier swallows down a wave of sickness.

wind pushes the bard to the limb man and jaskier scatters to pieces. he is breaking down like a shattered glass bottle and he is dragging geralt away from his own mountain of flesh and repeating body. geralt does not wake up. jaskier’s heart works overdrive, and he can’t breathe, yet he takes geralt’s weight. he holds his friend, holds a witcher covered in blood and straying skin and fifth, and he walks to the village. 

the same trees shrivel at the sight of the two. a sobbing bard, choking on his own brain, and a revolting witcher who is being held by the bard. jaskier drags the witcher’s legs against roots and mushrooms with his arms under the man’s pits. 

halfway to the village and he drops geralt. his arms recoil, cramping and covered in trauma. geralt falls softly against bright grass and flowers. his eyes are closed and his hair tangles in with the nature. the strands of hair melt into dirt, the eyes are visible under thin lids, and the flesh is still trying to grow stronger now. there is peace on his painful face. jaskier yells at the image because geralt never looks so de str o y e d like he does now. 

screaming wrong. 

vomit tries to leave him again at the smell of fresh decomposing and pure blood but only dry water and tears come out. he sniffs and picks up the body. not once does he let go on geralt. 

when he enters the village people run away from him, so he screams, “healer!” 

a young man walks out and gasps with horror at the two. jaskier snaps at him to lead the way and when the bard gently sets down his witcher in the bed - his heart tears.

the two awake men in the to bright room jump when geralt snaps up, sharp teeth on display, and growls a scream. jaskier watches as the healer ties geralt down and tries to keep skin and body in one piece, but the falling and growing and movement of everything is back in a cycle. the healer sobs and shakes but jaskier does nothing; he listens to the sounds of nightmare screams and thinks, 

this is what the trials must have been like? 

then, it is silence, and the young man is screaming into his bloody hands. the short screams of the man are fragile and broken want. they are not roughly kind shredded to pain. his screams are short and sweet and quickly end when a hand shakes his shoulder. 

jaskier does not feel like jaskier yet he knows he is moving and asks, “my friend-“ the tears never left him.

the healer trembled and says with a hoarse voice, “d e a d.” 

fire of geralt’s pain freezes over jaskier. his eyes turn to ice and skin calls for snow. 

“oh.”

he looks over to geralt and leans over his head. jaskier presses his lips again iron ones and lets out a broken cry. 

geralt is dead. 

his heart rumbles with a cold storm, and organs contact close. 

scream. 

there is a scream, and it comes from a bard. it is string breaking and nail curling. there is a scream, and it comes from an abandoned lover. heartbreak and grief. 

THERE IS A SCREAM, AND GERALT IS DEAD, AND JASKIER IS ALIVE WITH ICE PAIN. 

(no happy ending for them. a permanent torture for the suffering.)


End file.
